It meant that by the time they got to the flat, the sun had almost disappeared. They still had half an hour until sundown according to DJ’s weather app, but Rake was fussing about it, dragging DJ down the street as they hurried to get indoors. Rake, as always, was the one with the keys whilst DJ milled about, waiting for him to get the lock. DJ misplaced his keys often, somehow never able to find them in the labyrinth that was his favourite backpack.
He was still thinking about his fuckup that day at work when he registered a few painful pricks along his neck, followed by a powerful grip that cut off his air. He let out a strangled sound that had Rake turning around, his face contorting in fear.
“Got you,” Lawrence purred in DJ’s ear. A burning, acrid scent filled the air, and DJ looked down to see how Lawrence’s exposed skin bubbled where his shirt had slipped down from his wrist.
DJ froze in place, staring at Rake where he stood with his key in the door. Rake made the slightest of forward movements, but Lawrence pulled DJ closer against him. It didn’t matter that they were of a similar height, or that DJ was broader in the shoulders and outweighed Lawrence by a fair bit—DJ didn’t have a hope in hell of fighting back.
“Rakesh,” Lawrence said. DJ gasped for breath as Lawrence flexed his hand around his throat. “You have two options here. Invite me inside your home, or I kill your boy right here in front of you.”
Rake’s chest moved up and down rapidly as he began to hyperventilate. DJ was desperate to comfort him, but his eyes just teared up as he fought to stay conscious.
“Invite. Me. In,” Lawrence said again. His voice didn’t have the enticing quality it’d had when he tried to compel Shaun through the door. This was a straightforward threat.
“Come in,” Rake uttered in a strangled voice.
“Lead the way,” Lawrence said.
Rake opened the door to the stairwell, holding it behind him for Lawrence, who manhandled DJ inside with one hand on his throat for leverage. Rake took the steps to their floor without watching where he walked, keeping his eyes on DJ the whole time.
“Walk, boy,” Lawrence said, digging his claws into DJ’s neck. Blood dripped down towards the collar of his shirt. He wanted to resist, but he was pretty sure Lawrence would drag him up the stairs if necessary. At least he retained a certain level of dignity if he went of his own accord.
Rake got to their front door, still in its damaged condition from the last time Lawrence had broken in. At leastthis time, wherever Shaun was, he was safe from whatever Lawrence had planned.
DJ hoped so, anyway.
“Open the door,” Lawrence said.
Rake hesitated. It was only a second, but Lawrence took issue with the delay. Lawrence dug a hand into DJ’s hair, pulling his head back at an unnatural angle that had DJ gasping in pain.
Lawrence’s mouth hovered over DJ’s skin, fangs grazing his jugular. “I will drain him right here,” Lawrence warned.
Rake’s hands shook as he did what Lawrence told him, holding the door open for Lawrence to drag DJ inside first.
“I’m not surprised you live in a shithole,” Lawrence sneered. DJ wanted to rebuke that claim. Their flat wasn’t amazing, but it wasn’t ashithole.
Rake followed them silently into the living room, turning on lights as he walked. They had left their curtains drawn, in case Shaun returned close to sunrise.
“Sit down,” Lawrence said to Rake, nodding towards the sofa.
Rake sat down, right on the edge. His eyes darted between Lawrence and DJ.
“Give me your phones,” Lawrence said.
DJ handed his over without hesitation, Rake doing the same, his nostrils flaring in anger. When Lawrence dropped both phones on the floor and stomped on them, DJ winced.
“You have got involved in something that is so much larger than either of you can handle,” Lawrence said. “Shaun has been detained by our version of the authorities. He isn’t coming back. He cannot protect you.”
Hopefully, Kit was able to do something to help Shaun. Because, second by second, it was becoming clearer to DJ that he and Rake weren’t going to be in a position where they could help themselves, let alone anyone else.
“You’re going to pay for getting between me and my pet.” Lawrence shoved DJ down onto his knees, hand moving to the back of his neck to keep him in place.
“Not DJ,” Rake said, voice barely audible. “If you’re going to hurt someone, hurt me instead. Please.” His lips forced out the last word with visible effort.
“I don’t want you to beg, Rakesh. I just want you to suffer.”
“Stop monologuing like a bad movie villain,” DJ said. He didn’t know why when faced with his death he was turning to sass but, apparently, this was how he was dealing with the concept of his own mortality.
Lawrence huffed. “You can’t even appreciate an outstanding performance when you see one. Fine. Rakesh? I know you’ll have rope in the flat. Go get it. Your boy will stay here with me, so don’t even think about trying something.”
